


All That's Safe, All That's Warm

by hufflepuffsquee



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Past Torture, kind of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7300270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepuffsquee/pseuds/hufflepuffsquee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you tell someone what happened to you down in a torture cell in the dark? Moreover, how do you tell them that their smile is how you survived it all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That's Safe, All That's Warm

It doesn’t occur to Kima until that night, getting ready for bed in Allura’s ivory tower (”a literal ivory tower, holy shit, Allie”) that there are things Allura might not have been able to guess about her stay in the Underdark. 

It had been discussed briefly, but they had moved onto other topics, Kima steering the conversation toward things that would make Allura smile and laugh. Kima can’t bear to make that expression change, Allura has already worried so much over her. It doesn’t feel fair. 

Now Kima watches Allura remove her earrings and the gold from around her neck, clearly preparing for sleep, and falters. She’s always been this brash, brazen thing in all respects, and nudity has never bothered her. Not in her life. The first night she and Allura had traveled together, all those years ago, Kima had strode back into camp from a bath with only a towel on. 

Around her shoulders. 

But Kima can’t strip down right now. She’s exhausted and she can’t stand the thought of things going all emotional. With a huff of a sigh, she moves to a nearby wardrobe and opens a drawer at the bottom. Shirts that Allura wears on the (seemingly rare) days that she does not have some business with the Council or the Pansophical, days where she can be lazy and comfortable. Kima shuts the drawer and moves to the washroom, shutting the door behind her. 

She changes in a matter of moments, satisfied that the shirt goes past her knees. Sometimes it really truly was good to be a halfling.

The sight that greets her when she steps back out is precisely what she expected it to be. Allura is still sitting at her small vanity, turned away from the mirror, facing the door. Her hands are in her lap and her expression is… It’s a lot of things. Her face does that, where it’s a lot of things. 

Concerned and curious and anxious and fond all at once. 

“Kima?” 

All the question needs to be is her name, because Allura also can manage to work a paragraph of unspoken things into one word. It’s kind of ridiculous, really. Even more ridiculous is how Kima can hear all the words she didn’t say just now. 

_Kima, what happened? What’s wrong? Are you alright? If there’s anything I can do, tell me. I’ll do it. Come here, whatever it is, it’s fine. You’re worrying me. Tell me, talk to me, I’m here._

“It’s…” Kima shifts her weight from one foot to the other, brow knit together as she thinks of what to say. She doesn’t want to scare Allura. Or worry her. “Please, Allie. Don’t worry about it. It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“You’re certain?”

“I’m sure, yeah.”

“Later?”

Kima nods, throat unexpectedly tight, relaxing when Allura gives her a sincere smile that speaks of a joy to have Kima back overriding the worry over whatever this mystery is. 

“Someday, yeah.”

Allura rises, stopping to give Kima a gentle kiss on the forehead before changing into a nightgown of her own. The two sleep -just sleep- late into the next morning. 

In the scant days that Kima is still in the city of Emon, she is rarely out of Allura’s company. Granted, there are times when the risk of prying eyes drives her to act like she doesn’t want to be in eyesight of the arcanist at all times, but night always finds them back in the tower, back in the same bed. 

Some nights progress as nights spent with someone as beautiful as Allura are wont to do, especially when time is scarce. In those moments, Kima only murmurs a hushed “No lights” between kisses or gasps or with her fingers clutching Allura’s hair. Allura always complies. 

Too soon, Kima is aboard an airship back to Vasselheim. They still haven’t talked about it. Allura didn’t push, she’s good like that. They’ll talk about it in time. It’ll be fine. 

It’s another month before Kima can manage to escape her duties to the Order, and even then, it’s for a scant two weeks. 

The first week passes in much the same way that her brief days with Allura did after she came back up to the surface with Vox Machina. Allura doesn’t press, Kima keeps sleeping clothed, time is spent together with no light. 

It happens on an absolutely ordinary night, Kima seated on Allura’s bed and watching Allura sorting magical jewelry. There’s the occasional soft arcane glow as Allura checks what spell is stored in what item, and a couple of times she goes to the window to release a random spell out of it to store something else. Magic, the finer bits of it, escapes Kima. She knows how to harness the magics of Bahamut and that’s enough for her. 

She can’t say what makes her do it, but she finds that she’s suddenly, softly, said Allura’s name. Not ‘Allie’, but ‘Allura’. 

Allura turns, brow furrowed, a soft “Hm?” offered by way of reply. 

Kima doesn’t say anything, and she’s already haflway through tugging off the shirt of Allura’s she’s chosen to sleep in for this stay. She stays sitting after she drops the shirt, cross legged, bare save the underwear, watching Allura’s face. 

She wishes almost immediately she hadn’t, because it does that thing where it makes a lot of expressions all at once, and every single one sucks. 

Worry. Fear. Shit, that’s one big helping of fear. Anger, briefly. Sadness, and that makes both of them blink faster than they usually do. 

“In the Underdark?” Allura finally asks, moving to sit on the bed behind Kima. 

“Yeah.” Kima nods, throat tightening when she feels Allura’s fingertips at her back. They’re gone just as quickly as they were placed there, and Kima realizes she must have flinched. 

“I’m sorry.” Allura murmurs. 

“It’s… Nah, it’s alright, Allie. I don’t mind.” 

The fingertips are back almost immediately, moving over what must be near hundreds of various marks. 

“I was dumb. I shouldn’t have… I don’t get caught. I’m smarter than that. Usually. I’m sorry.”

Crying, Kima decides for the thousandth time in her life, is the most stupid thing ever to happen. She sniffs, acting like it is not a stupid thing that is currently happening to her.

“Shush.” Allura kisses the nape of her neck and goosebumps rise on her arms. Even with one word she can hear that Allura’s in a similar state, and she frowns at the idea she’s made Allie cry. 

“I still… I’m sorry.”

“I can… Do you want them healed?”

Kima knows she means with magic. She sniffs again, brushing the heel of one hand under her eyes roughly. 

She’s quiet for a long time as she things about it. It’s not the scars themselves that bother her, and Allura probably knows that (because she knows everything). It’s that she got caught and almost didn’t finish what she set out to. It’s that those damned dark dwarves kept her away from Allura and from her duty to Bahamut, two things that shame her immensely. But in the end, they’re just marks. She’ll get more. She had plenty before. 

“Nah. I’m just upset they cover some of the dragon scars. I like the dragon scars.” She shakes her head and turns to face Allura, taking her face in her hands and brushing her thumbs under her cheeks. “They don’t bother you, do they?”

“All that bothers me is that someone hurt you.” Allura says honestly. “You’re still stunning.”

“Shush.” Kima says, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust even as she grins broadly. Allura is the only one who could ever get away with something like that. Shit, Allie can get away with calling her beautiful. 

“How… How did you survive something like that?” Allura’s brow is all knit up again, searching Kima’s eyes for some answer. 

Kima kisses her, an attempt to hide the complicated things she knows her own face is doing. How the Hell do you tell someone that they’re the reason you made it out of a mess like that? 

“I’m tough,” She says, working it out between kisses. In part because she doesn’t yet want Allura to see her face. In part because kissing Allura isn’t something one can just stop doing. “That and I have a dragon god on my side.”

She knows that Allura knows what she’s doing. Again, Allura knows everything. But she carries on kissing Kima, and kissing carries on to other things. 

As it turns out, Kima figures out that you tell someone they’re your safe place when you’re tangled together in the dark, sweat cooling on your skin and breathing finally returning to something that resembles normal. 

“I thought about you.” She murmurs, eyes closed, an arm around Allura’s middle and her face in the crook of her neck. 

“Hmm? When?”

“Down in the dark.” Kima shrugs, eyes still firmly shut as if she can ignore the stupid tears if she doesn’t open them. “You asked how you survive that kind of thing and… Well. That’s the answer.”

“By… Thinking of me?”

Shit, she sounds so stunned and emotional. Kima just nods, acting like this isn’t some huge deal. Really, it’s probably the biggest deal in the world, and she’s been spoken to by a deity on numerous occasions. 

There’s silence as Allura works to speak, and Kima holds onto her a little tighter. 

“I love you, too.” Allura finally sighs, nose buried in Kima’s hair. Kima grins and presses a (slightly damp) kiss to Allura’s collarbone. It’s matched by one to the top of her head. They relax into each other, this hurdle behind them, and sleep. 


End file.
